Whispering Wind: Futuristic Macbeth
by deadheadwookie27
Summary: Macbeth set in a post apocolyptic world. Very graphic, yet entertaining.


Macbeth

**Whispering Wind:**

**Future of Macbeth**

By Stephen Hedges

Prologue:

Rain pounded heavily on the rusted hoods of abandoned cars. Even though fifty years obsolete, the cars still lied around used by scavengers for scrap. The ragged scavengers ran across the eroded streets kicking up dust, trying to find shelter from the rain. The rain came down more heavily within the span of thirty seconds, making vision of three or more feet impossible. Following the rain came the thunder and lightning, lighting up the outline of the ruined city. In the distance windows could be heard being broken, most likely to places being looted (if that was even possible). Closer there were screams of the mutated coming out to hunt, and the screams of those who were hunted.

Buildings stood barren and crumbling. The constant torrential downpours kept what was once Seattle, in everlasting grey. After the end fifty years ago, having come down to nuclear destruction, there were only two times of day throughout the world. It was either black, or grey. Black was usually at night, when the dark clouds caused by nuclear warheads, thickened to the colour of tar. Grey on the other hand was all that clouded the sky, it wasn't light nor was it pitch black, but it gave a depressing glow and the promise that life would never be the same. Buildings had been reduced to tall blasé ruins, streets were eroding away, broken automobiles littered the streets, and people were divided up into many varieties.

Scavengers moved like animals, they looked like them too. The moved with incredible speed crawling on all fours. Their teeth grew long and sharp as to tear the flesh off of dead creatures. Being cowards they would never fight, instead they'd watch on waiting for the bigger prey to fall. They hid inside cars, in hollowed out walls, in sewers, even inside empty gas containers at the long forgotten stations. The mutated were the poor souls that were caught in blasts of the radiation but did not die. The skin would fall off of their body, leaving bloody muscles to act as skin. They gained the ability to see at night, their nails grew sharp and long as did their teeth to ensure the ability to kill, and their speed increased to even more than the scavengers had. The mutated could chase a man down at a hundred meters within six seconds flat, even though they only came out at night, they were the biggest threat to the last remaining normal humans. The most skeptical and dangerous were the outcasts. They have lived since the end of the war along with the mutated but the outcasts had predicted the end. There was only four of them yet they were feared by all. They used people like puppets, purely for their amusement. They could pit them against each other in a battle royal or drive them past the point of insanity where they would tear the flesh from their faces and pluck the eyes from their sockets.

The remainder of humans weren't like the stereotypical WWW III survivors portrayed in science fiction. They didn't wear rags and live underground and there wasn't any resistance fighters against a rising empire. Most were freelancers that lived on their own, but one thing that had happened was that people had reverted to an monarchy. The king of the western territory was a man named Duncan. He and his people were in constant feuds with the north territory. Some of Duncan's people had betrayed him, leading the fight towards him along with the Northern territory. This would be the beginning of the end for Duncan's rule.

Beginning:

The wind began to blow the heavy wall of rain in erratic patterns. It added towards clouding vision, of those most unfortunate to be caught in it, even more so. Scavengers scurried about running from the mutated, freelancers set up their positions in broken window frames to wait out the long night ahead of them, and three lone figures stood on the second floor of an old parking garage. They stood in a triangle as dying scavengers screamed, the mutated fed off of scavenger flesh, and the rain tapped on the concrete of the destroyed city buildings.

A scavenger was running for it's life, being chased down alleys of broken glass, torn sheets of metal siding, and bones from the past generation. It was breathing at a heavy rate just barley out running the mutated. The scavenger burst through a wall of planks that brought it out to the street. It kept looking over its shoulder, looking for it's pursuers, but they were sitting like dogs, looking at the scavenger. It stopped to get a better look at them, then it noticed that they hadn't come out of the alley way. It realized it's mistake too late though, as it heard the wind pick up.

The wind pierced the scavengers brain like sewing needles into an apple. The high pitched scream in the wind was artificially produced by the Outcasts. The name for it was the Whistling Wind, because the scream was a high whistling screech. It drove all who heard it to the brink of insanity. For some it would just kill them flat out, some would tear at their skull to make it stop, and others would be influenced by it and hear people telling them things.

The mutated watched as the lone scavenger started to sway in the street. It did something scavengers rarely do, it stood up on it's hind legs so it looked almost human again. It shrieked with pain while tearing at the grey flesh of it's face. It howled as it began to peal it's own face like an orange. It's crimson sticky liquid was being spilt into the wind and spraying wildly. The amount of blood lost was too much, finally bring the scavenger to a stop and too it's knees. As it helplessly wailed for the pain to end it scrunched it's fingers into points, then with force and speed jammed them into it's eyes. It's eye balls popped like water balloons sending liquid shooting into the wind. It fell on its side and gave it's last scream as it died, and rolled over and over down the street in the wind. The mutated watched and when the body left sight the wind instantly stopped along with the rain, just leaving the black sky hanging over head.

"Poor helpless creatures! Maybe should have listened to us they should have!" one of the Outcasts spoke from within a parking garage. The three evil creatures had just killed a scavenger for pure amusement. They used the Whispering Wind to drive it to an inhumane death.

"Yes they should have. No denying it now." Another Outcast said. She took a deep breath and walked towards the edge of the parking garage. She caught sight of a small convoy heading towards the Northern territories outpost.

"Who shall be next? None are worthy of our presence so why not kill them all?" The final Outcast suggested. They were all wretched creatures.

"Because too much fun makes it all boring!" The first Outcast said.

"Hey! What about them?" The second Outcast pointed towards the convoy.

"That is where we will meet again?" The first Outcast asked.

"That is how we will have our fun. It shall be too exciting! Need to drag out the joy on this one we do! Make himself his own downfall!" The third Outcast became giddy with joy.

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"Who is in that senseless attack? Who is the leader of their senseless fighting? The one who they all look up too? He shall be the one, who's ignorance kills him." The first Outcast.

The second Outcast looked at it's siblings and smiled. "Macbeth."

"At the gates!" The sentry of the Northern stronghold screamed out. Everyone within the outpost began to scramble for the attack.

As the men scrambled for arms, the women for shelter, and the children to survive, the first artillery shell blew away the makeshift wall. Shards of metal flew threw the air at high velocities which tore through scrap houses and pieces of the ground out. The commanding general, Macdonwald, looked around barking orders. He hit the ground and narrowly avoided a spiraling shard of metal. Though he dogged it, he watched sickened as it sliced through a mothers chest, both halves of her body flopping to the ground, and cutting off the head of her son. Angered at the sight, Macdonwald gave the signal to strike back.

A hail of automatic gunfire erupted from the walls. Four out of the twelve gunners dropped in a hail of sniper fire. Brain matter, skull fragments, and blood rained off of the wall down onto the forces below. The first make-shift tank made it's way through the blown out wall, only to hit a land mine. Old remodeled jeeps came through the opening, their machine gunners swiveled around shooting anything and everything that moved. Men, women, and children were torn down in hails of gunfire, bloodshed, and explosions. The other tanks made their way through the wreckage and proceeded to blow down the sentry towers. Within minutes everyone was lying as a bloody pulp on the ground. Bodies were strewn all over, some lying in two, some missing limbs, and other perfectly fine from the neck down on account that their heads were missing.

Towards the hole in the wall stood Macdonwald with his sights on the leader of the intruders, Macbeth. Everyone under Macbeths command had their sights on Macdonwald, while the two were beginning to strafe in a circle.

"You've killed us all Macbeth! Even the children!" Macdonwald screamed at him. He held his simple but powerful revolver up only to be matched by Macbeths relic of a weapon the Elephant Gun.

"You should no have influenced them to betray the King then." Macbeth answered coldly. He showed no remorse for anyone he killed today. Not one of the troops did, and if it wasn't for Banquo (Macbeths right hand man/general) ordering not to fire he'd had been dead. Macbeth had planned this because their snipers could have picked Macdonwald off at anytime, yet Macbeth wanted to end it himself.

"You will know in time that the Monarchy will fall. Corruption shall be your end." With that he raised his revolver up to fire, but Macbeth was faster. He had already fired a slug removing Macdonwalds shins and bringing him to the ground.

Macdonwald was screaming and writhing with agony while Macbeth strode over to him, whistling, and twirling his shotgun in his hands. He waltzed right up to Macdonwald and stopped him from rolling on the ground by planting his boot on his chest and his weapon to his temple. Macdonwald stopped and began to sweat.

"I could end this pointless little fight right now… But I have a belief. That belief is that traitors, should be killed in a more… Primal, fashion." Macbeth told him. He then pulled a little vial out of his pocket and gave the signal for everyone to head back to their land. As the troops moved out, Banquo walked up to Macbeth.

"Our vehicles are ready my friend." Banquo told Macbeth.

"Good. Well old chap, it's been fun. But there is a time and place for the end to come and yours is now." He opened Macdonwald's right hand and placed the vial in it. Confused as to what it could be, he watched wondering what was happening as it was closed in his fist. Then with out warning, Macbeth pick up his heavy boot and crushed Macdonwalds hand into the earth, shattering the vial and spilling the liquid into his wounded hand.

Macdonwald screamed at the pain, but his eyes widened in realization and fear as to what was happening. "NO! NO! N.N.!!" He kept screaming. He heard Macbeth laugh as he and Banquo mounted their jeep and took off towards their land. Approximately five minutes later he heard their slobbering growls. The mutated were being attracted in great numbers from the pheromones in the vial that was smashed. Macdonwald didn't want to be eaten alive so he put his revolver to his chin and waited for the mutated to get closer. As they got within ten feet, he chuckled. "Guess you aint gonna get you "live" meal!" He pulled the trigger and "Click." The clip was empty. He was too stunned to actually do anything except scream as he was torn to shreds by the mutated.

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Banquo and Macbeth rode over the scorched terrain not speaking. Neither liked killing, they did it to because they were the kings highest respected soldiers. They drove through the nuclear wasteland, Macbeth driving and Banquo in the gunner seat. Macbeth came to a sudden halt causing Banquo to swivel around and start the barrel cycle. In front of them stood the most foul and feared creatures the Outcasts.

Macbeth hopped out of the drivers side and drew his elephant gun, Banquo came around the other side with his M-16 drawn. "What do you want foul evil beasts!?" Macbeth shouted towards the Outcasts.

"Looky here! It's Macbeth, Commander of Fear, Controller of Death and future King!" The Outcasts chanted in chorus.

Banquo shot a round in the air to halt their chanting. They stopped an looked at him. "And it's Banquo! Not as great as the Controller of Death and he shall not be a king! Yet his offspring shall become Royalty!" The chorused again.

Macbeth raised his shotgun and shot one of the Outcasts in the face, separating it's head in half. It screamed as the wind picked up again, the rain began to pour. Macbeth and Banquo rushed back to the jeep but Macbeth stopped. He kept hearing a voice that was telling him how easy it could be to become King. It kept on him and on him until Banquo yanked him into the vehicle and drove off.

The wounded Outcast stood up, its head completely restored. "the plan is in play! Macbeth shall be his own undoing, and the most fun we have had in a long time, will grace us."

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The jeep carrying Macbeth and Banquo came swerving into the fortress walls, kicking up dust as it went. It swiveled into the armoury, where it was abandoned and left for the mechanics. They made their way into the Kings chambers and kneeled before Duncan.

"My friends! My friend Banquo and honourable cousin Macbeth! You have become gratified heroes!" King Duncan went on his rant but Macbeth faded out of that focusing on what the wind had said to him. It would be easy for him to become King, and the Outcasts were known for their accurate prophecies. He was shaken from his thoughts as Duncan addressed him.

"Excuse me sir?" He asked.

"I said thank you for destroying that treachery from our land! Now I know you have been away from you wife for a long time, so go to her! I am going to be visiting your home soon also so be ready! Thank you again my cousin.!" Macbeth left the room rather hastily.

As he walked through the encamped area of the fortress towards his rather large sanction at the opposite end of the fortress, Banquo caught him.

"Hey! What's wrong? You haven't been right since you shot that Outcast." He lowered his voice. "You should be happy! One less of those beasts the better!"

"You don't get it my friend. The wind spoke to me! It told me… Never mind I don't want to think of it." Macbeth said shakily. He sped his pace and made his way to the enclosed area known as his home.

Middle:

Macbeth entered his home and was instantly welcomed by the sound of his wife yelling. He heard a screech and a thump, then a scavenger scurried out the door his wife in pursuit. She pulled out a pistol and shot it in the forehead. It fell over dead and she looked up to see her husband laughing.

"Macbeth! You're home!" Sheryl yelled. (Sheryl=Lady Macbeth) She rushed over to him and engulfed him in a hug.

"Sheryl… On our way back, Banquo and I encountered the Outcasts." She gasped and he went on. "They prophesized that I would… That I would… I would be King." She stared wide eyed at him. "That's not all though, the wind spoke to me. I believe it was the Whisperling Wind. It told me that all I would have to do to become King would be to kill Duncan.

"She stared at him and came to the realization that he wasn't joking. She sighed and took a deep breathe. "Macbeth, that is the way to become King! You must slay Duncan, or should I? No matter who does it, we both become Royalty. Your next in line anyway, why not speed the process up a little bit?"

"I don't know… No! I deserve this! When he comes for a visit, I shall be the next king!" He screamed as his wife jumped up and down with glee.

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Outside the gray turned to black as the night approached. The lights of the fortress sprung to light as the waste land on the other side was pitch black. The wasteland on the other side did spring to life with noise however. The sounds of the mutated came to life with their primal roars. The screams of the dying scavengers were getting repetitive but it was still a horrifying sound, like how rabbits used to get caught in traps or deer in barbed wire. A lone man eyed the Fortress with night vision, he stood in the destroyed city. From his twentieth story window he had a good view of everything, but he was going to make his was to the fortress for a job. In the meantime he used his rifle to pick off scurrying scavengers and ravaging mutated on the street below.

Duncan sent word to Macbeth that he would be heading for his house in the evening. Macbeth and Sheryl began to plan their assassination. Macbeth's wife was very cunning in the art of murder. She was once an assassin turned to house wife, but she would always be as tough if not tougher than a soldier. Duncan's body guards would only help in the plan, they would be framed for the murder themselves.

The evening came faster than need be and the plan went into effect. At dinner they gained Duncan's trust so he spent the night without hesitation. Later that night, Sheryl had gotten the guard's to take some mood enhancing stimulates, which were laced with powerful drugs. With the guard's drugged they would be planted with the weapons used to kill Duncan. A simple plan. A common plan. An effective plan.

When the sky became black, Macbeth struck. He went up to the room and removed the guard's weapons. They were normal pistols with silencers on them. He walked up to Duncan and looked at his king. The man lied there sleeping no knowing what was about to happen. Macbeth put a pistol to each temple. He pulled the trigger on the right gun first. The bullet left the chamber and entered Duncan's skull. The gray and goopy matter miraculously and astonishingly entered the chamber of the other gun, and jammed it when Macbeth went to fire. Realizing the true effect of what he had just done, he took off towards his room, dropping the guns by their owners.

When he entered the room, his wife looked at him knowingly and had no remorse. He on the other hand was on the brink of loosing his grip on reality. "It is done I expect?" She asked him.

"Yes it is done. What else would explain me being covered in this gore!?" Macbeth was livid. He could kill at this point, just to soothe his numbness of murder. It was a strange remedy but anything would work at this point.

"Well don't just stand there! Go take a shower and wash that off!" Sheryl shrieked at him.

Macbeth took off into the bathroom to wash the blood off of him. When he returned twenty minutes later, Banquo was waiting for him.

"What is it Banquo?" he asked.

"The King… He is dead." Banquo solemnly said. Macbeth froze and turned visibly white.

"What?" Macbeth said. He put his best voice on as to not choke and give away the entire conspiracy.

"Yes my friend. He was killed by his body guards, they are now being sent out into…" He was cut off by screams and blood curdling howling. There were two separate cries for help, then an explosion. The guards had been put outside the gates at night, and one had stepped on a land mine, while the other was being eaten alive.

The stood there in silence for a long while, until Banquo spoke. "Your going to be King. We have already voted on it… But I know you killed Duncan." Macbeth looked up in actual shock. How did Banquo find out. "Macduff does too, we figured that you'd be king if anything happens and I saw your face when we encountered the Outcasts."

"Am I King now? Or do we have to publicly announce it?" He asked.

'Technically you can start now, bu…" He was cut off.

"Your both banned!" He got up quickly and drew his hidden 12 gauge. Banquo already had his pistol drawn and it was a standoff in Macbeths room.

"Macduff is already gone! To gain allies to fight you, you treacherous heathen! He left yesterday! We already discussed what might happened, so he went incase!" Banquo shouted at him.

"Banquo, you are my brother. Not blood, but basically. We have slain more people together than anyone else, which is why I'm allowing you and Fleance to leave. Now before I kill you I'd suggest you get ready." They stood there waiting for the other to move. Banquo discharged his weapon.

"We shall leave at early daylight." Banquo said and left quickly.

Macbeth sighed and flopped into a chair. He was at a loss when he heard someone from the window sill.

"He'll tell everyone you know." Was the dark gruff voice. Macbeth swiveled and pulled off a round. The man dogged the slug and put one right in Macbeths kneecap dropping him.

A Macbeth screamed the man began to talk. "Now, why'd you have to go and make things get violent?" The man crouched over him waving his heavy revolver. Macbeth got his first good look at him. Clad silver armour, heavy combat boots, a back pack and a cowboy hat. Yep he was a freelancer.

"What do you want? Freelancer." He said between gritted teeth.

"I'll take care of Banquo for you. He'll just rally more troops, your other friend has his troops on the way." Macbeth looked even more horrified than in pain. "I'll take it as a yes. Don't worry, names Ton. Two-Ton. I'll get 'im and be outta your hair. For a fee of course." Macbeth just nodded and passed out due to blood loss.

End:

It began to grey up, the sky, instead of staying the solid black. Banquo and Fleance got on an ATV early in the morning and left as promised. Four hundred meters away Two-Ton zoomed in on them from a pile of scrap metal. The crosshairs of his rifle landed on Banquo's nose. He was using a bolt action, so he loaded the bolt and squeezed the trigger. Time seemed to slow as the bullet tore away Banquos face. His nose was blown out of his left ear, and the right side of his skull collapsed in like a mine.

The death of his father who was driving the ATV caused Fleance to be thrown into the air. Before being thrown, he was showered with the inards of his dads head, leaving him soaked in blood. He was thrown fifty feet through the air and landed under a green sign on a road. The sign read "Welcome to Seattle. Home of Star Bucks". Fleance was disorientated but realized what had happened. He was near the city, which only freelancers would go near because of scavengers and the mutated. But before he could move he was already being torn to pieces by the blood thirsty once human beings. He screamed as he saw his intestines pulled from his stomach like spaghetti and his last image was his heart being sliced like a grapefruit and dust used as sugar.

"Two for one." Two-Ton said as he went back to the city, to his twentieth story window, his ammo and food in hand.

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"What do you mean they know!" Sheryl shrieked at Macbeth. He had been crowned king this morning and had just received message of Banquos and Fleances death.

"Don't worry. Banquo is dead same with Fleance, but we have to wait for~" He was cut off by an explosion. "No! Not now!" Macbeth ran towards the court yard. Macduff and his army were there. Macbeth realized that they were out numbered and outgunned. He stood there watching his people die when a mortar shell landed right next to him. He was thrown through the air and blacked out.

Macbeth started to come in and out of consciousness periodically. He fully came out of it when he heard his wife scream then a splatter noise was heard and her body flopped to the ground headless. Macbeth got up from under a pile of metal with glass splintered in his broken hand. It smelled oddly familiar but he couldn't place it. He realized the fortress was destroyed, the walls down and everyone either gone or dead. He looked around still dazed and heard slobbering noises. His eyes widened in realization and terror, and hundreds of mutated tore the flesh from his body slowly and painfully. He couldn't even scream though, he had been killed by the same method that he had killed Macdonwald with. Then his last realization was that Macdonwald had been right, that the monarchy had failed. Then His head was crushed by the hungry jaws of a mutated.

Epilogue:

The rain started to pour down heavily as the black sky of the city, known years ago as Seattle, turned to night. Scavengers ran across the eroded streets from car to car to avoid the torrential downpour. Freelancers set up their posts for the night high up in destroyed sky scraper towers. The sound of the night was the pattering of rain hitting the rusted obsolete automobiles and the screams of the hunting mutated and their prey. The wind began to pick up as a scavenger and a mutated fought in the middle of the street. The Creatures began to sway and their brains began to leak out of their ears. They died and the wind died down, along with the rain and screaming. The only sound to fill the air came from an old parking garage.

"That was mighty fun!" Said one Outcast.

"Who should we have fun with next?" Asked another Outcast.

"The last Outcast paced about, when a deep hideous voice filled the void.

"**MACDUFF**"

The End

Works Cited

The Best Military Science Fiction of the 20th Century. New York: Random House South Africa.

McManners, Hugh, Richard Holmes, and David L. Grange. Ultimate Special Forces. Grand Rapids: Dorling Kindersley, Incorporated, 2006.


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